


Dream 3 (in the midst of my life)

by daisyillusive (bluedreaming), newlyentwined (bluedreaming)



Series: From Sleep [1]
Category: GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6082659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/daisyillusive, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/newlyentwined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or maybe it's that he's opening his eyes into the dream, waking and sleeping reversed, fingertips meeting in the quiet, the faint pulse of a heartbeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream 3 (in the midst of my life)

When Jinyoung closes his eyes, he doesn't see the dark. There's snow falling along the sides of the road, wind swirling the powdery flakes up: frozen dust like the cherry blossoms that will fall in springs to come, warm wind that will brush over skin, linger between fingers grasping at things that don't last.

Or maybe it's that he's opening his eyes into the dream, waking and sleeping reversed, fingertips meeting in the quiet, the faint pulse of a heartbeat.

"Are you awake?" Jinyoung doesn't open his eyes; he knows who is it by the sound, vibrations in the air, the way Jeonggeuk shifts in the leather seat. He nods instead, unwilling to wake, or fall asleep. It's hard to say. A nod can mean yes, but conversely it can also mean no.

"We're not in Bulgaria," Jeongguk says, and Jinyoung can't tell if he's frowning or whether his voice is muffled because he's turned away. The glass of the car window touching his face is cold; he opens his eyes.

Blinks.

When he straightens, cheek faintly reddened by the cold of the thin glass separating him from the winter outside, Jinyoung glances around the room—larger than the interior of a car—that isn't moving but rather, quite reasonably, stationary. There's still the lingering feeling of motion, the feeling of phantom acceleration, rubber wheels gliding over winter roads. Jinyoung presses the soles of his feet to the ground and glances over at Jeongguk.

Jeongguk isn't looking at him, flipping through the pages of a heavy book, brow furrowed in concentration that's quickly dispelled as Jinyoung realizes that the book is upside down.

"Interesting book?" he asks, glancing down at his fingers. If he lets his focus slip, he can feel the warm breeze of spring. Jeongguk coughs, and Jinyoung listens to the sound of paper brushing paper, harsher than cherry blossoms.

"I'm not in the mood," Jeongguk says, the shrug inherent in the tone of his voice. By the sound of joints cracking, Jinyoung can tell that he's probably stretching his arms up into the air, spine bowing backwards like a cat, or perhaps an athletic dog. When he looks up from his fingers, Jeongguk is already standing, stocking feet sliding across the floorboards in search of the perpetual something else.

Jinyoung wonders when he'll find it, and what it will look like.

_Animal, vegetable, mineral?_

The 50s are over, regardless. He closes his eyes, rests his cheek against the cold glass again, as the car speeds forward through the snow, rubber tires gripping the frozen asphalt.

"Are you sleeping?" Jeongguk asks. Jinyoung nods his head.

Maybe they are in Bulgaria. It's been a while since he's had banitsa, after all, and he might be looking forward to the flaky pastry, feta cheese smooth on his tongue. The dream, whichever it is, is sweet, lingering full in the middle of its trajectory, not end in sight, the beginning behind him. Jinyoung licks his lips; tastes salt on his skin.


End file.
